I have no neck.

It’s okay. I’m not dead, it’s just that I have no neck.

I’m sure some of you out there are thinking, well if she has no neck, then where does her head sit?

It sits on a part of my face that has fallen and now resides between my head and my shoulders.

I went to school with people who had necks, so I know they do exist.

I have even worked with a few people who have necks, though they were limited in number and ran when it came to sticking them out.

I have never had a neck.

Oh, I certainly wanted a neck. And not just any neck. I want an Audrey Hepburn neck. A neck that could support necklaces, turtleneck sweaters, and the occasional nibbling by a lover.

I was not that fortunate.

When I was created, I got ample other parts, but alas, no neck.
I could never wear those huge hoop earrings that were popular in the 70’s and popular again today. As a matter of fact, if I were to wear them today they could be used to hoist the babes from their fall south.

I like turtleneck sweaters but I look like a mugger, as the neck comes to just below my nose. Makes it difficult to breathe and I begin to sound like I’m all snuffed up.

I want just once to wear a dress and necklace like SHE did in My Fair Lady. I promise, I’ll give it back after the big event.

I thought about wearing those brass neck rings you see on women in Africa to make my neck long and elegant. I wanted to try them until I watched a National Geographic special and found out they don’t really elongate the neck. In fact they push the shoulders down. Great. I’m five foot ‘you never had a chance on being a model’ tall. I don’t need to shrink. I can accomplish that on my own, thank you very much.

I’m just going to have to accept the fact that I’m never going to have a neck, not even a Sponge Bob Squarepants neck, let alone an Audrey Hepburn neck.

Yesterday, I had an appointment to get my hair done, and my back soaked. The two go together because I have no neck.

All goes well until I have to make a trip to the shampoo bowl. It has that nice little space cut out for the neck to rest in so the hair can be shampooed.

I do my best turtle impression, but my head remains outside the bowl. My hairdresser, bless her heart, does her very best to make me feel that I am like everyone else. Everyone else being people with necks.

But no matter how much I try to stretch that area, I still get soaked. It really isn’t her fault. To wash the hair you have to get the hair wet. If the hair is on the outside of the shampoo bowl, then that’s where the water goes. That’s also where the clothes I’m wearing are.

I haven’t left a hair appointment completely dry in, um, how long have I been getting my hair done?

She always apologizes profusely. It’s not her fault I have no neck.

Is this another thing I can blame on my parents? Can I file a claim or a lawsuit? Would it do any good?

I’d try therapy but that would just allow me to accept the fact that I have no neck. I don’t want to accept that fact. I want a neck. An Audrey Hepburn neck.

Okay. I’ll settle for just about any neck. But it has to be long enough to keep my sliding face from touching my shoulders. That’s a requirement I’m not budging on. Unless a facelift is in the bargain.

From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
© 2011 All Rights Reserved

About Wanda Argersinger


  1. Wanda, I chuckled a few times at your no neck descriptions. I used to have a neck but it seems as though each I grow a new chin thus obscuring even more neck!

  2. Wanda, you had me laughing. I love the idea of borrowing g a neck for an important event and then giving it back.

  3. I’m laughing (at your expense) and thinking of “Rocky Horror Picture Show” and the no-neck narrator. We used to shout in the interactive audiences, “You’ve got NO NECK!” Look on the bright side–necks are a hot-bed for skin-tags–you won’t have any problem with them (not that I (cough-cough) do). 😉

  4. So funny! I loved the “hoist the babes” line. Ten years ago I wore turtlenecks, no more. And, my mom, bless her soul, never had a neck. She couldn’t even wear a short dangly earring.

  5. I have a neck. In fact, looking at my baby pictures, you would think I was half giraffe. I can’t wear turtle necks cause it makes my neck look even longer since I either have to wear them unfolded, and if they have a zipper through them, that’s not possible, or they are folded and come only half way to my chin. I can’t wear the big earrings either ’cause, well actually, ’cause I’m allergic to metal but I tried and they gave me a headache. You can have my neck if you really want it – I have no particular need to be half giraffe. The hair dresser’s sink might be interesting though.

  6. Why stop at the neck? I want the whole Audrey Hepburn package. I have a neck. I have several necks. If you stretched my face skin upward, I would have a giraffe neck.

  7. Ha, you made my night. A real good belly chuckle. The hoop earings to hold up your ladies and to get your hair done with a backing soaking–funny stuff (sorry to laugh at your pain). I, too, have a short neck. I have to make sure I pose right for pictures or my neck completely disappears and I look bizarre. I can not wear a turtle neck either. Oh, and I love Jo’s comment above–funny stuff.

    Finally getting around to crusading again. I took a break to do some writing (weird, huh?). Anyway, nice to meet you.

  8. I’m sorry you don’t have a neck. I have a pretty long one, but I do slouch a bit. We all have the bits we don’t love, right?

    Nice to meet a fellow crusader.

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